


That Bright Golden Haze on the Meadow

by supercantaloupe



Category: Oklahoma! - Rodgers/Hammerstein, Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, as stuff continues to happen i will continue to add appropriate tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercantaloupe/pseuds/supercantaloupe
Summary: Jud Fry is new to town (again). There's something not quite right about this place, though, or these folks. Though he's never been much one for getting along with other kids, Jud might just have to learn (and learn quick) if he's going to make it through the school year in one piece.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> So help me god i will fill the Oklahoma! tag with content myself if it kills me.
> 
> Character designs and interpretations are based on the 2019 Broadway revival. If you're wondering, for example, why Ado Annie uses a wheelchair, or Laurey's hair isn't yellow, well, there you go. Special thanks to the pals on discord who encouraged and helped inspire some of this garbage.
> 
> Yeehaw.

Jud Fry was no stranger to being a stranger by now. He'd moved around and changed schools so often by now it was second nature to him. There was always something: his temper, his grades, his folks… And every time someone'd promise him he'd settle in well enough sooner or later. Guess he'd grown used to being lied to by now too.

Moving into the new house was a practiced affair for him by now. Find the bedroom, dump his bag on the floor, take a cool shower, and go to sleep without dinner. The floorboards here creaked under his feet when he shuffled through; the walls seemed to look over him with a grim and judgmental air. What do they know of him, anyway. 

Now it wasn't Jud's first sojourn in this part of the country; though it'd been a while since he was in Oklahoma last, he was a born and bred prairie boy. The wind outside his window was chillier than he remembered it but greeted him like an old familiar face nonetheless. The moon, a semicircle of silver, peeked in from behind clouds and leaves. He settled into his new bed and covered himself with a quilt. Laying his head on the pillow, he sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to prepare himself for another first day.

* * *

That night, he dreamed.

It was dark and misty out. He could just make out the corn standing tall in the field just beyond his path, and trees in the distance. He could hear that wind whistle out a whispered song. It swept around him, right through his jacket. His mind danced:

_ Maybe this time, I'll be lucky. _

_ Maybe this time I'll stay. _

_ Maybe this time, for the first time, _

_ Love won't hurry away… _

In the distance, a canine howled. The grass rustled. Jud turned around to see what had come --

And his eyes opened. 

* * *

_ Oh, what a beautiful mornin' _ , the sun sang in through his window, saccharine. Jud groaned and sat up, mustering all of himself to get out of bed, get dressed, get ready for school.

The new house (well, it was  _ old, _ but new to  _ him _ ) was in one of the more rural areas he'd ever been, but the school was easy enough to find on foot. Just follow the road up into town and you can't miss it. If nothing else, the walk would be nice. The fresh air and morning dew made for a not unpleasant walk. Jud wished as he came up to the school building that the whole day could be as nice as that walk, but he knew it was too good to last.

Walking across the front lot, Jud gripped the strap of the bookbag slung over his shoulder a little tighter and slowly followed the lazy flow of kids to the entrance. He kept his head down but noticed a tall, thin, and official-looking man wearing a hat and a serious yet bored gaze over by the fence. Jud figured it was the sheriff -- or, if not, still someone he ought to avoid making trouble with. (If he could manage to avoid trouble at all. More often than not, it seemed to follow him, despite his best efforts.)

Once inside he took a deep breath. The noise of dozens of adolescents milling around him pulled at his nerves already. Well, the 'welcome' letter he'd received said to go first to the main office, past the cafeteria, but nobody seemed to bother telling where the cafeteria was, neither. It was almost funny how familiar this unfamiliarity was to him by now.

After some lost wandering around, the hall opened up into a large room with its rows of standard plastic tables and chairs, scattered with isolated cliques of kids killing time before class. Moving along slowly, he overheard a snippet of conversation from one such group, a pair of girls sitting at the table and a boy in a cowboy hat (really? In a  _ middle school _ ?). Jud stopped watching for a moment to look, listen, observe.

"...'cuz yer a  _ cheater _ , that's why," the boy said, jerking his chin slightly at one of the girls. "I seen you last time usin'--"

" _ Foot. _ I ain't a  _ cheater _ . You's just mad I gots stronger arms'n you," the girl cut back, snarky. Her hair was a messy blonde bun, she was skinny, and she sat in a sleek wheelchair instead of a cafeteria chair. Beside her sat the other girl, with freckles on her cheeks and hair like a cloud of coils. "You's just too  _ chicken _ t' try me 'gain. Ain't  _ nobody _ in this school who ain't too  _ chicken _ t' try me in a match--"

"I'll try ya," Jud said, walking over. He seemed to surprise the three of them, just a little; he surprised himself a lot. He wasn't sure what possessed him to take on a random girl's challenge, but, what the hell. "I ain't no chicken."

The blonde girl smirked and leaned forward, firmly setting her elbow on the table and holding her hand out for him to take. Jud set down his bag and sat across from her, taking her hand in his. Up close he could see how impressively toned her arms looked, felt how firm her grip was, despite her small and skinny size.

"I'll make sure she don't  _ cheat _ this time," the boy said.

The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes but gave them a countdown to start anyway. "Three, two, one. Go."

Jud wasn't weak by any stretch of the imagination but he'd never encountered a girl with such raw  _ strength _ before now. He put up a valiant struggle for a few brief seconds, but the girl quickly pinned his hand to the table with a triumphant, punctuated laugh. 

"Hah! I  _ told _ ya!" she boasted, making a face at the boy with the hat. The other girl rolled her eyes again, then looked to Jud, watching him pick himself back up. He rubbed his wrist with his other hand -- if she'd've slammed it down any harder it might've done damage, he thinks -- and collected his bag, turning away and leaving in silence. He kept his head low again.  _ Great job, embarrassing yourself after only ten minutes _ , he thought.

"Must be a new kid," he heard the freckled girl say as he left.

"'d'ya figure?" asked the boy.

"Ain't nobody else 'round here who don't know by now not t' take Annie on at arm wrestlin'..."

* * *

The rest of the day passed him by just like any other first day. Some teachers introduced him to their classes and others didn't bother; either way he was almost universally ignored by most of the other kids. He kept his head down, and was glad once again for his quiet walk home. He couldn't get that morning out of his mind, though. The boy in the hat's cocky look, the wheelchair girl's grip on his hand, the curious eyes of the freckled girl. It stuck with him and he didn't know why.

That night he felt more tired than most days and fell into his quilt with an oh-so-satisfying  _ fwump _ . He drifted off to sleep quickly, despite his mind still spinning.

That night, he dreamed again. It was the same dark, misty path, by the corn and the woods, with the distant wind and wailing. He began to walk, one foot in front of the other, placed with concentration. Focused on the sound and feel of the dirt beneath his boots.

The rustling sound approached him once again, after a several paces. He turned around, scanning his surroundings, on edge. He saw nothing but the mist and the grass in the silver moonlight. He kept walking.

It occurred to him then, the old superstitions about the woods, the fields, the mists at night. Never go out alone, they say. Never look things in the eye. Keep your head down and don't stop walkin' til you reach home again. God help you if you find anything out there, or if it finds you. 

Old wives tales, stuff no one  _ really _ believed, but maybe, perhaps, heeded out of an abundance of caution anyway. Jud never paid them much mind before now, but as the rustling sound grew closer, and the sound of the dirt under his boots grew quieter, and the mist grew thicker --

A twig snapped beneath his foot. He stumbled, whirled around, and fell backwards. Something big leaped out from the shadows, something with piercing eyes and glinting fangs and an angry, hungry snarl. Blood pounded in his ears. The beast pounced, jaws open wide, closing in fast --

* * *

Jud snapped awake in a cold sweat. He gasped violently and jolted upright, shaking from the nightmare. His heart pounded in his chest; he reached an unsteady hand out to his bed table for his water and took several long gulps. He breathed deeply -- in, out, in, out -- trying to calm himself again. The moonlight shone in, dappled, through the window.

He'd had nightmares before. Plenty of 'em. Never before though did they ever feel so  _ real _ . As Jud laid his head back down on the pillow, apprehensive to sleep again at all, he wondered what might've happened to him had he not woken up in time.


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making new friends is hard enough on its own but even harder when weird things keep happening and everyone seems oddly suspicious of you for little apparent reason.

The rest of the night was sleepless for Jud. When the sun began to peek through his window in the morning it felt like a taunt. His body felt heavy today, but he managed to drag himself out of bed again regardless. Get dressed, comb his hair, brush his teeth, skip breakfast, walk to school. Another terrible day, he was sure of it already.

While yesterday's walk had been nice, and he'd been looking forward to it before, now it only seemed to put him on edge. There wasn't a single cloud in the cheery blue sky this morning but something felt  _ wrong _ to him. The crops in the fields swaying in the breeze seemed to conceal things, he could swear there was some mist or haze above the path, or maybe he was going crazy by now and his eyes were tricking him. Nevertheless he stayed guarded, slowing and glancing around at every stray sound, every hint of movement. Funny, he could've sworn he'd seen something scurrying across the path up ahead. 

At school, one discomfort merely traded itself for another. Jud arrived just before the bell and, still getting used to the school's layout, almost missed class trying to find the room. As usual, nobody tried to help him, nobody seemed to notice him. He pursed his lips and slipped into a chair. What do they know of him, anyway.

After three more classes he finally caught a break, lunchtime. At least he could remember where the cafeteria was...it was where he'd gotten his ass kicked at arm wrestling by a little girl. Yikes. Maybe he wouldn't have to run into her or her little group again, he hoped. He chose a seat on the end of an empty table and methodically began to open his lunch and unwrap his sandwich.

Other students continued to trickle into the lunchroom steadily, passing him with their trays and chatter. He kept his head down but watched them go from the corner of his eye, but quickly glanced away when he noticed someone looking back at him. Oh, god, they were walking towards him now, here we go.

"Hey. You're new, right?" she asked, stopping at the edge of his table. It was the girl from yesterday, with the freckles and the dark hair. Jud brought himself to make eye contact (though he didn't break his slumped posture). She was rather pretty, he noted. 

"I am," he said.

The girl rolled her shoulders back. "Are you busy after school? My aunt wanted t' welcome you 'fficially and told me t' invite you over."

"How's your aunt know 'bout me?" Jud asked, skeptical.

"I told her I seen a new kid in school yesterday. Remember? 'fore first period?" Jud nodded with a frown. He remembered. "An' she said t' bring him 'round the farmhouse 'soon as y'd like' to make 'im feel welcome, get 'im settled in."

Jud thought about that for a moment. Not only had she noticed him, and not cared too much over his humiliation at that first impression, but she told someone about him. Cared enough to invite him over.

Huh.

Just then, a pair of familiar voices entered, jabbering. "...don't believe ya. Eli says--" "I ain't lyin'! Laurey r'members it! Ask  _ her _ !" "Well where's she at?" "I don'-- hey, Laurey!" It was the wheelchair girl and cowboy hat boy again. The freckled girl turned when they called and waved. They headed over. Jud sank a little further into his seat.

"Laurey, me an' Curly've been -- who's'at?" The girl said, wheeling to a stop beside the table. The boy followed close behind and tipped up the brim of his hat. They both looked at Jud in much the same way one looks at a frog who'd just been kissed, expecting it at any moment to spring up into a prince.

"'s the new kid, from yesterday," responded the first girl, looking from her friends to Jud. He looked uncomfortable. "Uh, what's yer name?"

"Jud." 

"Hiya," the girl in the wheelchair greeted, grinning a gap-toothed grin. "'m Ado Annie. That's," she pointed at the other girl, "Laurey. An' this 's--"

"Curly," the boy cut in, rolling his shoulders back as he stood. "How old're you?" he asked. Laurey exhaled like she was irritated.

"Um. Thirteen," Jud responded. Curly seemed to bristle.

"Me too," he said.

"Liar," Ado Annie interjected. "He's only twelve."

"Am  _ not! _ " 

"Y'are  _ too _ !"

"Twelve an'  _ three-quarters  _ ain't thirteen!"

"'s close 'nough! Closer'n  _ you _ ," he made a pout and glared at Annie, who laughed.

"D'you two ever quit bickerin'?" asked Laurey.

"Well -- hey, we wanted t' ask you--" 

Laurey waved them off. "I'll meet you at our table," she said dismissively. 

Curly and Ado Annie shared a glance and a shrug. "A'ight. Don' take too long," Annie said, and the two of them started to go.

"I won't," Laurey said, then turned back to Jud. "...can sit 'ith us if ya wanna," she offered.

"...naw. 'll stay here."

"Okay...meet you here after classes? I c'n take you home t' meet my aunt."

"Okay."

Laurey stood up a little bit straighter, satisfied. "Alright. See y' then. Don' be a stranger," she said, then walked off to join her friends at their table across the cafeteria. Jud watched her go, head spinning as he tried to make sense of what happened.

Uh. He  _ guesses _ this is better than being ignored? Time will tell, he supposes, and went back to his lunch.

* * *

Still reeling a little from his lunch experience, Jud stumbled through the rest of the school day. He was grateful for the final bell and greeted it with a sigh of relief. He made a brief pitstop at his locker to exchange some books, then headed right to the cafeteria. He found Laurey sitting on the table where he'd met her at lunch, tapping on a phone. Immediately, he felt nervous, apprehensive again. He considered leaving alone, just going home, but she noticed him over her phone and moved to put it away and get up. No turning back now, he sighed.

"Y'ready?" Laurey asked, walking over to him, curls bouncing a little with each step. 

"Yeah," he responded, holding onto the straps of his backpack a little tighter.

"Good. Aunt Eller'll get mad if I'm late to finish my chores," she said, setting off. Jud followed, a few steps behind.

They started down the same road he walked to get home, but took a different turn early on that cut through some crop fields. Jud couldn't help but keep an eye and ear out like before, though this time he was also aware not to let on how freaked out he might really've been. The rustling in the grass, the constant movement out of the corners of his vision, the constant feeling of being  _ followed _ … Well, if Laurey noticed, she didn't let on. She walked at a moderate pace and didn't look back at him, didn't speak. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. He couldn't tell if she could see, hear what he was seeing, hearing, or if he was well and truly going mad.

The walk didn't take much longer than his route home. The farmhouse looked old and lived-in, yet with a welcoming air about it still. It seemed to terms with life, although it felt to Jud not entirely… _ natural _ . 

Laurey hopped up the porch steps and pulled open the door. Jud followed, cautious and self-conscious about it. "Aunt Eller! 'm home!" Laurey hollered, dumping her backpack on the couch as she passed by.

"Lands, child, take longer next time, why don't'cha? Chores ain't gon' do themselves," a woman's voice called back from some other room. 

"C'mon," Laurey groaned. "Had to bring th' new kid 'round." Turning back to Jud, who was still standing awkwardly by the door, she said "You c'n put yer stuff down anywhere." Almost reluctantly he shrugged his bag off his shoulder and set it down on the floor beside the couch.

"Oh? Couldn't'a hurt you to've called first, huh?" the woman called back, emerging from another room, wiping her hands on a towel. She might've been on the older side of middle aged, and looked almost, but not quite, entirely unrelated to Laurey. Noticing Jud, she smiled warmly. "Well, you must be the new feller. 'm Eller Williams, Laurey's aunt." She walked over and stuck out her hand for him to shake. "An' you are…?"

"Jud Fry," he responded, feeling small as he shook her hand. 

"Well, welcome, Jud. Make yerself at home. Laurey's got some chores t' get done --" she shot a look at her niece, who pursed her lips and avoided eye contact. "-- but 'm sure she'll finish up quick seein' as we got a guest in th' house. Right, Laurey dear?" Aunt Eller raised a brow. 

"Yes'm," Laurey responded with the exasperated cadence of a child who'd just been told to tidy her room, which is entirely what she was. She trudged up the stairs and disappeared.

"Well, don't just stand there, child, have a seat. Y' jist got here, why not stay a while?" Eller said, gesturing around the room, where there was a plethora of seating options ranging from antique-looking dining room chairs to antique-looking rocking chairs to an antique-looking sofa. All of them, he had the distinct and irrational feeling, seemed like they were crawling with  _ something _ , but his eyes wouldn't focus enough to actually spot anything. Uncomfortable, but not wanting to get in trouble, he chose a chair at the dining table, and folded his hands in his lap, hunching over.

"Lord, ain't you a scrawny thing. Y' hungry? Lemme fix you somethin'," Eller said after seeing him settle into the chair, and turning back to the room she'd come from, which he figured must've been a kitchen. He gave her a small "no thank you" in response but either she didn't hear it or ignored him. Even if he had been hungry, there was something off-putting about this house, this town that made his stomach turn and his appetite race away. The way things seemed to move in his periphery, the way sounds faded in and out without explanation, the way he seemed to feel things that aren't there --

"Here y'are," Eller said, emerging again and snapping Jud out of his thoughts. She set a tray down at the table bearing a plate of cookies and a jug of lemonade. He poured himself a glass and took a long gulp, as if washing down some bad taste stuck in his throat. Eller sat down across from him. "How're y' settlin' in, then, Jud? I s'pose you an' yer folks jist moved in a few days ago, huh?" Laurey descended the stairs carrying a hamper of laundry. She took a detour in her path to swing past the table and swipe a cookie for herself before Eller could scold her for it, though she did get a glare from her aunt anyway. "Don' let me let you leave 'thout a housewarmin' gift for 'em too, y'hear?"

"Naw…'s jist me." 

They were quiet for a moment. Both girls looked at him; he felt himself sink into his chair a bit. Not wanting to make eye contact, he grabbed his glass and took another gulp of lemonade. Laurey shoved the rest of her cookie in her mouth, glanced at Aunt Eller, and disappeared through the kitchen door.

"Where'd you move in? Up th' road? The -- ah, what's it? -- the Martins?" Jud nodded. Eller did too, understanding. "Good folks. You tell 'em they oughta visit more of'n fer me, will you?" Jud sipped his lemonade again.

Sensing the conversation slipping into an awkward lull, Aunt Eller turned her head and called back to the kitchen. "Laurey, baby, yer maw and paw called t'day." The door opened and Laurey peaked in. "Said they ain't gonna be able t' visit this weekend." 

Laurey pursed her lips and frowned a little. Jud glanced first at Eller, then to Laurey, setting his glass down. "...oh?" was all she responded.

"Mhm. Said they'll see 'bout next month."

Laurey breathed. "...alright."

Aunt Eller picked up the lemonade jug and poured herself a glass. She leaned over and refilled Jud's too, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Maybe you c'n gather some a' yer friends this weekend an' I c'n drive you into town fer the day t' make it up t' you."

Laurey watched her aunt and considered this. "...maybe."

"Jist think about it," Aunt Eller said, sitting back and sipping her lemonade. "Don' forget to check the henhouse today." Laurey disappeared back into the kitchen; Jud could hear her exit through some back door into the yard, presumably to the henhouse.

There was a thumping from outside the front door. Jud turned around, more on edge than he cared to admit. The door swung open and in strolled the cowboy kid from school -- Curly, Jud thinks his name was. "Howdy, Aunt Eller!" he greeted.

"Lands, you  _ were  _ raised in a barn, weren't you? Ain't nobody ever taught you how t' knock?" Eller responded, looking fed up but hiding a smile. "An' when we got company, no less."

"Aw, you ain' never--" he started, pushing his hat back with his hand, but stopped when she mentioned company. He took another look and only then noticed the other boy at the table. "...Ah. Hello, Jud," he said, not unkindly, but with the careless lilt to him gone.

"Hello yerself," Jud replied, unreadable.

"What'chu come 'round here for today, Curly? Thought you had work to do on Tuesd'ys." Aunt Eller asked.

"Traded my shift with Eli," he said, waltzing over and taking a cookie for himself. He had such an overconfident air about him, thought Jud. "Told him he oughta cover fer me since I covered fer him last weeken'." He puffed his cheeks and stuck out his chin. "Said he gotta  _ date _ he could'n' miss." He had an attitude about him of a boy who still maintained both opinions that girls were nothing but trouble and and the most interesting thing in the world at the same time.

Aunt Eller smiled, a little slyly. "An' you thought you could do the same, I reckon."

Curly's confidence seemed to deflate like a poked balloon. He frowned and made a pout, trying (and failing) to resist the reddening of his cheeks. "I-  _ no _ ," he protested. "Ain't like  _ that _ \--"

Aunt Eller chuckled and closed her eyes. She inclined a motion with her head towards the kitchen. "She's out back, workin' on her chores." The boy tipped his hat back down again and nodded, mumbling a "thank you'm" and went through the kitchen door. Jud watched, silently.

Aunt Eller finished her glass of lemonade and stood up. "Well, I reckon I better give the Martins a call, let 'em know yet stayin' fer dinner," she said, turning to go up into the kitchen herself.

Jud pressed his lips together. "Y'don't hafta," he said. Eller paused and looked at him. Her eyes, kind as they were, somehow felt piercing. He could've sworn there was some creepy yellow glow to them. "...I cain't stay. Got, uh, work t' do. At home," he explained, not wanting to make eye contact.

Aunt Eller didn't seem convinced. "Y'sure? Yer welcome t' stay, sure yer new folks ain't mind."

Jud nodded. A bug crawled on the table beside his glass; he moved to flick it away but it seemed to vanish before his eyes in a wisp of purple smoke. He curled his fingers in, tighter than he probably should've, and rested his hand on the table.

Aunt Eller breathed out, nodding slowly. "...Alright, 'f you say so." She went back into the kitchen herself, but kept the door propped open. Jud stood up, and moved to collect his backpack, blinking as though he were squinting through a bank of fog (why would there be fog in a house anyway? He  _ must _ be crazy). He heard her call out back, "Laurey, how close're you t' bein' finished?" The girl responded, but Jud couldn't make out what she'd said. "'lright. Curly, come on back an' help walk this gentleman home, will you?" There was a protesting-sounding response from out back, which Eller cut off, saying "--wasn't askin' fer yer permission, Curly." She laughed at something, then came back out from the kitchen with a ziploc bag. At the table, she filled the bad with the untouched cookies and sealed it shut. She came over to Jud, giving him the bag and a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "Here y'are," she said. "You take these home t' her new folks fer me, will ya? And here--" she motioned to the paper. "You c'n call me if you have any problems 'ith anythin'." She raised a brow at him and put her hand on his shoulder like she knew something, and Jud felt a little uncomfortable. He nodded. "Yer always welcome here."

There were footsteps from the kitchen and Curly reappeared. "Jist walk back up to the road and turn right, 's a straight shot home," Eller directed the two boys. 

"If'n it ain't far I don't see why he cain't go by himself," Curly arged, his hands in his pockets. Aunt Eller shot him a look.

"Don't treat the boy like a louse, now, Curly, it ain't nice." She raised a brow. "Give 'im some company."

Jud glanced at Curly sideways. "...'s alright, I c'n walk alone." 

"Not on my watch." Aunt Eller opened the front door and ushered the two boys out. Curly started down the stairs, while Jud hesitated just beyond the threshold. He glanced back over his shoulder at Eller. She smiled warmly. "Don't dawdle, get home safe, you two." He started to go. "An' Jud?" she continued, once he was a few paces away. He paused and turned back again. "Don' be a stranger, y'hear?" He swallowed and nodded. She seemed happy. "Good. Run along now, boys." Jud gripped his bag's straps and turned forward, catching up to Curly ahead. Aunt Eller watched them from the porch until they reached the bend in the lane, thinking, then disappeared back inside.

* * *

Curly kicked at stones as they walked. Jud kept his head down and his hands on his bookbag straps. He wasn't sure how he felt about this cowboy fella, but from the first glance, he did not like Curly. It felt to him a reciprocal sentiment, though Jud would admit he's probably a poor judge of that. He hasn't had much practice at reading other folks. Curly had a lazy bounce to his gait, legs slightly bowed. His hat still seemed a little silly, especially for just a kid like him, but at least outdoors the cowboy aesthetic fit him a bit better. Jud walked more carefully, with soft and planned footsteps. His eyes kept playing tricks on him, he kept hearing things moving in the crops, and he couldn't tell if it was just him or not. It was maddening.

Curly, with his hands in his pockets, glanced over his shoulder at the other boy as they walked. "So!" he started, breaking the silence. "Yer Jud, yeah?" Jud nodded. "Jist moved in, did'ja?" Another nod. He wasn't a sparkling conversationalist, that was obvious. "Well, if'n you stick with me, listen t' what I say, I betcha you'll settle in right quick around here." Curly stuck his thumb out and pointed to his chest, chin held high. "I know this town like th' back a' my hand."

"Great," muttered Jud, paying more attention to a less than friendly rustle in the grass to his left. Curly eyed him, frowning.

"'re you always this quiet, Jud?" Curly asked, slightly pointedly. Jud looked back at him. 

"...what's it to ya?"

"Oh, nothin' much," Curly kicked another stone into the grass, sending a weird looking critter Jud swore wasn't there before scampering off. "Jist feel like, if'n I were you, I'd make a lot more friends if'n I weren't so quiet."

"Maybe I ain't lookin' to make a lotta friends while I'm here," Jud responded, rather coldly.

"Y'gotta have  _ some _ ," Curly protested. "Ain't nice spendin' all yer time by yer lonesome, is it?" Jud glowered. "'Don' be a stranger' an' all that, 's what Aunt Eller says."

"I heard 'er m'self."

"I got lots of friends," Curly continued, lofty. "We got ourselves a--"

"Maybe it's cause you don't shut up," Jud muttered. Curly stopped for a moment, eyeing him. 

"...Yeah.  _ Maybe.  _ Y'know f olks tend t' like it when y' actually  _ talk _ to 'em." 

"Maybe fer you _ . _ " 

Curly looked about to say something else when suddenly something emerged from the crops and scampered across the path in front of them. At first glance Jud thought it might've been a fox, but since when did foxes have that many  _ legs _ ? He stumbled back a pace, staring at the spot where it had crossed; Curly stopped too, and looked back at Jud, wide-eyed. 

"...little jumpy there, Jud?"

"...'m fine," he insisted, clenching his jaw and pushing onward. Curly raised his eyebrows and picked his step back up.

In only a minute or so more they reached the main road. Curly stopped and looked to the right, up the street. "'s just up that-a way." Jud nodded. "Think y' c'n make it from here by yerself?" He nodded again. "Alright." Curly nodded in return, and started to head back the way they came. "See ya 'round."

"Yeah. See ya," Jud responded, a little wary. He stayed and watched him go for a second, then headed up the road to his new home.

* * *

Jud let himself into the house quietly. His new foster parents asked him where he'd been, how was school, but he hardly gave more than a one-word answer. At the earliest convenience he stole away to his room to dump his bag down and wash his face in the bathroom. The cold water felt good on his skin, which had grown clammy that afternoon from the discomfort of it all. He laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling after, running over the events of the day in his head.

He was going crazy, surely. There was no other reasonable explanation.

* * *

Curly ambled back down the lane to the farmhouse and let himself in again. Laurey looked up from her place at the table, where she was working on some piece of homework. "Didn' 'xpect you t' come back," she said making a face.

"Well hello t' you too," he said, making a face back at her.

"Is that Curly 'gain?" Aunt Eller spoke up from the kitchen, then came on out into the living room with them. "Thought you was goin' home, child." 

"I will, I will," he said, plopping down in a chair. "but I been thinkin'."

"That's dangerous," Laurey commented. Curly pitched his hat at her.

"You hush," he shot back, making an angry pout. "I'm bein' serious… D'ya get the feelin' that the new kid might--" 

"Mhm." Aunt Eller interrupted, nodding. Laurey looked up, met her eye, then Curly's. She pursed her lips in a way that said she had the same suspicion. 

"...mhm. 's what I thought too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been calling this au "Oklahaunted" in casual reference because I think it's funny and fitting.


	3. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things only continue to grow weirder and more suspicious for Jud. How much longer will be he be able to stand it?

"D'ya think  _ he _ knows?"

"Reckon not."

"Should we tell 'im?"

"Mmm. Give 'im some time...figure he'll either come to us, 'r we'll run into ‘im again soon enough."

* * *

The full, bright moonlight shone silver down through the clouds. It colored the world in an eerie monochrome mist, dramatic and key-lit. The wheat waved. The wind whistled, the river rippled and whispered. The corn stood tall and still, listening. 

Jud walked. He focused on breathing, on his footsteps, focused to keep on walking and don't look back til he got…wherever he was going. 

Night was never so silent as it was here, as it was now. Normally there were crickets, cicadas, nightingales, frogs, owls, foxes. But tonight there was only wind and footsteps. As if everything else was afraid to sing.

Jud walked. The path led towards a forest, but for as long as he kept going it never seemed to get much closer. There was a rustling from behind him. He kept his head down, eyes fixed on the ground ahead of him.

Something inside him, some instinct or intuition or  _ something _ , snapped. Before he could stop himself he whirled around, just in time to see something leaping upon him, with huge claws and shining black eyes. He fell backwards, landing on his bottom, and shouted. Reflexively he raised an arm to shield his face while he kicked a leg up as hard as he could; it collided with the beast and knocked it off its course, sending it tumbling into the wheat field beside the path. 

Jud breathed heavily, heart pumping in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd done that, honestly, but he could hear the beast snarling, see the grasses shifting as somewhere within the monster was righting itself and readying to return with a vengeance. He scrambled to his feet and began to run, a full-out adrenaline-fueled sprint towards the trees, trying to get away from the danger. He tried shouting but found his throat too tight, his voice too far gone, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

The creature burst through the grass and, digging its claws into the dirt, skid into a turn and launched into a chase in one fluid motion. There was no way to get a look at it, but Jud could see it was big, and mad, and fast, and unholy, and it was gaining on him quickly.

In just a few strides it caught up enough to leap against, this time hitting its mark and sinking both claws and jaws into the boy's back and shoulders. His eyes squeezed shut. He shouted and fell forward, knees and palms scraping into the dirt on impact. A terrible, shooting pain rocked through him, followed by a numbness--

* * *

Jud's eyes blinked open again, he gasped violently and looked up, up at the ceiling of his room. His face was cold and damp from sweat, his heart was pounding.

Another nightmare.

Jud tried to sit up, to lift his arms to wipe his face and rub his eyes, but found his entire body heavy like a great lead weight, stiff as boards, immovable. He drew in a sharp breath and stared at the ceiling, then the window, where a gibbous moon tried its damndest to watch over the prairie through a thick haze of clouds. He couldn't move a muscle. His body felt unreal.

Sleep paralysis? Lucid dreaming? Hallucination?  _ Another  _ nightmare? Weak explanations spun around in his head. He tried to shut his eyes and sleep again but sleep refused to come, not for another fitful hour or two, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the moonlight.

* * *

Jud woke again in the morning, feeling more tired than when he'd gone to bed the previous night. He could move again, thank god, but his whole body ached and weighed like boulders. He had to  _ drag _ himself out of bed more literally than ever before. 

Getting dressed for school, he noticed in the mirror a scattered set of ugly, deep red scratches and punctures on his back. They were tender and raw, they hurt to touch. It looked and felt almost like...no, impossible. That was only a bad dream. It was just a nightmare. Nothing more. He was careful putting on his shirt then, and despite the season still being a little warm for it, he wore a jacket over top. It padded the wounds, but he still winced slinging his bookbag up onto his shoulders. 

* * *

On account of his exhaustion and aches, classes passed painfully slow this morning. Jud could barely pay attention to the teachers, the markers squeaking on the whiteboards, the endless stream of words in the textbooks. He couldn’t get his mind off of his nightmare -- the same one, three nights in a row, but somehow worse each time. Somehow it was like his dreams were real, actual physical encounters where he could run and scream and wear himself down and get really, actually hurt all without leaving his bed. He scribbled mindlessly in his notebook while he thought. And there was that beast, each time. It had been impossible to get a good look at it -- it was so dark, even with the moonlight, and it moved so  _ fast _ , springing up at him from within the wheat without the slightest warning --

  
  
“Draw mothman next,” someone said. Jud nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, instinctively covering up his notebook with his arms. The kid giggled. “Jeez, jumpy,” she added, stepping back slightly from where she had been leaning over Jud’s shoulder. Jud looked up at her, a tall-for-her-age girl with a golden brown ponytail. Confused, Jud peeked back at his book, and noticed that what he had been doodling was what seemed to be the monster from his dream: a big, unnatural, wild-looking hellhound creature. The girl must’ve thought it was a werewolf. Jud covered his book up with his arms again and looked up at her over his shoulder, glaring slightly.

“Who’re you?” he asked, sounding irritated.

  
“Gertie Cummings.”

  
“Leave me alone, Gertie.” Jud turned back forward, hunching. 

  
“‘s a neat drawin’,” she said, leaning over him again.

He turned back around. “Shouldn’t you be payin’ attention in class?” he shot at her.

  
“Shouldn’t’chu?” she asked, not sounding mean at all. “Bell rang a minute ago an’ you ain’t even noticed.” Jud’s expression fell blank. He sat up a little more and looked around, seeing the classroom mostly empty, save for a few straggling kids still packing their bags and the teacher at his desk, oblivious. Jud’s lips flattened into a frown, a little embarrassed. 

“...So you decided t’ stand there an’ hover over me like a horsefly ‘stead a’ goin’ t’ recess yerself,” he said flatly, looking back to Gertie with narrow eyes. She didn’t seem bothered by his venom in the slightest; in fact, she seemed to find it funny, and broke out into a loud, guffawing laughter. Jud wished he were deaf. 

“You sure are funny, Jud!” she said once her laughter had subsided.

“How you know my name?”   


“Will Parker tol’ me.”

“Who’s Will Parker?”

“You ain’t met ‘im yet?”

“No. How’s  _ he _ know ‘bout me?”

“Reckon Ado Annie probably told ‘im. She tells ‘im everything, they’re like  _ bee eff effs _ .” Gertie started to laugh a bit again, and Jud winced. “You shoul’ meet ‘im. He’s a hoot an’ a half.” 

“‘m not interested,” Jud said moodily, shutting his notebook and stuffing it into his backpack along with his pen and textbook. After zipping it up, he slung it over his shoulder (wincing again) and started for the door. Gertie followed him like an annoyingly eager puppy.

“Yer a good drawer,” she said. “Looked like a coyote t’ me.” Jud simply grunted in response. “Seen them lots a’ times, out by th’ farms up near Claremore. ‘Course, they don’ like ‘em much out that way, on ‘count a’ them scarin’ all th’ livestock an’ such,” she rambled on. Jud wondered if she ever shut up. She was worse than Curly, he thought. “An they’ll pester people too, if’n they’re hungry ‘nough or rabid too. ‘s why most folks ‘round these parts keep a gun in th’ house… A mean ol’ coyot’ ain’t somethin’ y’ wanna mess with, that’s fer sure. They c’n fight like nothin’ else.” Jud considered this.

Mostly trying to ignore her, Jud kept walking until he reached the recess yard. Gertie followed him, chattering most of the way. Once outside, he hoped to get away from her, but upon spying a pair of kids whom he assumed were her friends, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along with her as she ran to join them.

“There’s Will! C’mon!” she shouted.

They approached a pair of boys sitting in the grass who were deeply involved in some kind of negotiation. Several pens were laid out between them and they argued heatedly, often pointing to some of them or at each other. Gertie slowed to a stop in front of them and let go of Jud’s wrist, squatting beside the boys. “Howdy fellas,” she greeted. “What’cha doin’?”

“Tradin’,” said one boy, who had a round face and floppy hair. He grabbed two of the pens and held them up to Gertie, while the other boy made a noise and leaned forward to try and grab them back from him. “Ali says ‘e’ll gimme these two for my blue gel pen but I don’ think that’s a fair deal, whuddabout you?” The other boy snatched the pens back and laid them carefully back down in their places.

“I made you an offer, ‘s take it er leave it,” he grumbled. He spoke with a barely-there accent, like someone born abroad but who’d lived here for a long time.

Gertie pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. “If y’ threw in yer Iron Man pencil I’d say it’s fair.” 

The first boy made a horrified face. “Naw! ‘s my fav’rite one!” 

Gertie shrugged and stood up. The second boy pursed his lips and began to gather up the pens, sensing the deal was off. He picked his head up and noticed Jud, looking like he was trying to sink away into the background and leave. “Who’s’at?” he asked. Jud drew in a breath and looked weary. 

“That’s Jud,” Gertie answered.

“Oh! Yer the fella Annie mentioned!” the first boy exclaimed, immediately distracted from his previous despair. He popped up and gave Jud a combination hand slap-fist bump handshake. “‘m Will Parker,” he introduced himself, offering a crooked and friendly grin. “That’s Ali Hakim. He’s from the Middle East,” said Will, turning and pointing to the other boy still on the ground. 

“Iran,” he corrected flatly, like it was something he had to do all the time. He went back to sorting the pens, mumbling something about how “‘s not the Middle East…’s central Asia…”

Jud grunted in lieu of an actual greeting, still looking like he’d rather be somewhere else. 

“Ado Annie told me ‘bout’chu,” Will continued. “Said you tried her at arm wrestlin’. You must’a been brave, ain’t nobody ever beat her ‘fore,” he said with a laugh. Gertie laughed too. Jud squinted his eyes shut in exasperation. Did  _ everybody _ at this school know about him now from that? “Last time I tried my arm was hurtin’ fer two days.”

“Where is Ado Annie, anyway? Figured she’d be wit’chu,” Gertie asked.

Will shrugged. “I dunno. Prob’ly off playin’ ghost hunters with Curly ‘gain.” For the first time in the conversation Jud looked up like he was even remotely interested.

“Playin’ ghost hunters…?” he repeated, trying to be unreadable.

“Yeah, ‘s like their whole thing. Dunno why...I feel like ‘s best t’ leave that stuff alone.” Gertie and Ali nodded to themselves.

Jud furrowed his eyebrows. “What’d’y’ mean? You sayin’ ghosts ‘re real?”

Will shrugged. “I mean,  _ I _ ain’t never seen one. ‘m sure some folks have…” He puffed out his cheek and cocked his head to the side in thought. “They’s wivestales ‘bout ‘em and all that sort, but I reckon e’rybody talks ‘bout ‘em but don’t  _ really _ believe in ‘em.”

“Still don’ wanna be out alone at night,” Ali said, standing up, having apparently finished sorting the pens and putting them into his bag for safekeeping. “Y’ don’t hafta believe in them ghost tales t’ know it’s stupid t’ be out so late. ‘s just  _ askin _ ’ fer trouble.” 

There was a commotion in the recess yard as a teacher called out and kids began to stream back inside. Gertie turned to look, then grinned. “Lunchtime!” she said with enthusiasm and began to rush back over to the door. Will broke out running behind her with a “Wait fer me!” and Ali followed further behind, leaving Jud standing in the grass alone with a perplexed look on his face. He stood there for a moment, processing the whole conversation, then headed inside himself. 

* * *

Jud found himself dreading the walk home from school today. Classes crawled by at a snail’s pace that afternoon but the final bell eventually rang, and he had no excuse to stick around. The walking wasn’t even so bad; it was cloudy but not too cool out, along a road bordered by crop fields, corn on one side and wheat on the other. The road was paved but traffic was light, and you were left alone to the sounds of the country and your own thoughts for the while as you went on your way.

The problem was, though, that that was exactly what Jud was dreading. That path reminded him all too much of his nightmares, and it didn’t help that his back was still hurting, still injured in a very real sense. The weight of his backpack on his shoulders was a constant reminder as he’d come to school in the morning. And those crops stood tall, or at least the corn did. As Jud packed his books at his locker he tried to be rational, psych himself up.  _ It’s October, the corn crop’s jus’ about finished, ‘s just the stalks. Wheat’s only jus’ takin’ root, it’s still short. It was tall at night…nothin’ can hide in a field a’ sprouts…ain’t nothin’ out there. _ It was a weak argument, and Jud couldn’t even bring himself to be convinced by it, but he tried nevertheless. Rational thought didn’t help him when his mind was spiralling into fantasy, conjuring images and sounds and mists and creatures that aren’t really there. 

He could only stall for so long. Time to head home.

The main entrance open into the front parking lot. There were lots of kids going about their afterschool business: those sitting on the curb and waiting for parents to pick them up, those already sporting athletic clothes and equipment bags heading to football and soccer practices, and kids collecting their friends to walk or bike home together. Jud looked around and noticed some of the faces he’d met so far: Gertie was going down by the baseball field, laughing, with Ali Hakim, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else; Ado Annie and Will Parker were busy loading themselves and their stuff into a parent’s car to drive home; Laurey and Curly were waving them off, and then walking up the road in the same direction Jud was heading. His shoulders slumped. He was never going to be able to avoid the two of them, huh? 

Without much of a choice, he kept his head down and started to walk, following a few paces behind the pair of pals, chatting and teasing between themselves. Jud kept his eyes forward, attempting to ignore both them and the wispy, phantom-y shades that had been increasingly plaguing to his sanity since moving in. 

Further out from the school it was quieter. Jud found he couldn’t stop himself from listening in on some of Laurey’s and Curly’s chatter. He couldn’t have known whether or not they knew he could hear; he couldn’t have known whether or not they wanted him to. 

“...weren’t there a wil’ one spotted out by Annie’s paw’s farm las’ week?” “Somethin’ like a rabid hound, ‘s what I heard Cord said.” “Cord don’t tell you nothin’. He don’ tell nobody nothin’.” “I ain’t said  _ he _ tol’ me, said tha’s what I  _ heard _ .” “From  _ who? _ Aunt Eller?” “Duzit  _ matter _ ? Point is I heard it.” “I figured Mr. Carnes would’a shot it t’ smithereens if’n he’d seen somethin’ like that out on his property, ain’t he?” Curly’s voice lowered just a little then, almost conspiratorially, but Jud could still eavesdrop. “I fig’red he would’a, ‘cept I heard they los’ track of it. An’ I don’ think tha’s the type you want runnin’ aroun’  _ unsupervised _ .”

Curly and Laurey came up to a stop where a smaller path branched off from the road and cut through the fields, up towards Laurey’s house. Jud slowed down a little, but kept walking, trying not to draw attention to himself. They both noticed him anyway. “Well, I’ll ask Eller ‘bout it tonight,” Laurey said, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders, surreptitiously glancing at Jud. “See what she thinks we oughta do. Let’chu an’ Annie know what I hear.” Curly nodded at her.

Jud caught up at that point. Curly turned and raised his eyebrows at him, giving a simple “Howdy, Jud,” as a greeting. Laurey gave Curly a look, then waved both hello and goodbye to Jud as she turned to go up the road to her own house. Jud kept walking, merely grunting a response. Curly watched him for a moment, making a face and thinking, then kept going himself, catching up to walk by Jud’s side. Jud gave him an unfriendly sideways look. 

“I c’n walk home ‘lone,” he said a little pointedly after a minute. “Y’don’ hafta  _ escort _ me ev’ry day.”

“I gotta go this way too,” Curly chirped, chin up, slightly smug. “Work at th’ barn up th’ way. I gotta  _ job _ . You ain’t own the road, ‘neither.” Jud didn’t respond, but looked irritated.

Curly kicked a stone and looked around. Things rustled and scampered through the crop fields but he paid them little mind. The clouds cleared only enough to let a few stubborn patches of blue sky shine through. A hawk made lazy circles in the sky in the distance.

“Y’ever hear ‘bout any ghost stories, Jud?” Curly asked out of the silence. Jud eyed him and considered saying “no” just to get him to shut up, but something stopped him. A morbid curiosity, or an unsettling suspicion, or something along those lines. He didn’t respond, at least not verbally. Curly took that as a cue to go on. “This town’s old as th’ wind, see. Prob’ly over a hun’ed years old, I reckon. An’ ol’ town like this, gotta hav’a lotta hist’ry, they say ‘s gotta lotta ghosts too. Grownups warn y’ not t’ be impolite out by the ol’ courthouse on account a’ it bein’ haunted, tell ya not t’ go out int’ the fields at night ‘cause who knows what ol’ spirits out there gonna be lurkin’ out t’ getcha?” Curly glanced at Jud with a simple and interested expression. Jud kept his eyes forward, his face as flat as he could, but his mind was whirring and his eyes betrayed that. “Lotta stories…reckon some of ‘em oughta have some truth to ‘em, huh? D’you ever believe in that sorta stuff, Jud?”

Jud swallowed. “Not so far.”

Curly raised his eyebrows, trying to read him, then looked forward like he was satisfied with something. “Think ‘bout it, maybe…anyway, it don’t gotta make sense t’ be true. An’ you don’t hafta believe t’ be careful.”

The came upon a driveway on the other side of the road, which led up a ways to a house that looked old but hiding it. Jud stopped walking and looked at it. Curly paused as well, looking at him. Jud met his eye, frowning, slightly guarded. Curly raised his eyebrows.

“Jus’ think ‘bout it.” Curly smirked. “See y’ ‘round,” he said, then turned and kept walking up the road.

Jud breathed, watched him go for a minute, then turned and looked back up to the house. He had the ridiculous notion suddenly that it was haunted, that  _ he _ was haunted. 

Impossible. 

_ ...Anyway, it don’t have to make sense to be true. You don’t have to believe to be careful. _

Jud sighed and squeezed his eyes shut; he rubbed his face with his hands trying to shake and and shove the thought of it out of his head. Then he crossed the road and headed up to the house.


	4. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids play ghostbusters. It's debatable whether or not it goes well.

That afternoon, Jud spent a lot of time thinking. He thought about the mysterious scratches on his back. He thought about the beast from his nightmares. He thought about the kids he’d met here so far, Will Parker and Curly Mclain and Laurey Williams. And he thought about ghosts. 

This house he’d moved into, like seemingly every other building in the county, was old. Out in these parts, “old” seemed practically  _ synonymous _ with “haunted”. There were warnings, wivestales, woven deep into the fabric of life here.  _ The dead can sing, when sleep will not come and there’s a storm in the night. Nothing you see is here anymore. There’s a forest burning somewhere, and the moon is red as blood.  _

In the evening, after homework and dinner were finished, he found himself repelled by the thought of being in that bed, that room for another horrible night. Twilight colored the air a soft, cool indigo. Crickets and cicadas were playing the opening chords to their symphonies. The moon, full and bright, began to rise above the horizon. Jud couldn’t stand to stay in here one more night.

So he decided he wouldn’t. 

After changing into his pajamas he crept downstairs through the quiet, darkened house, carefully placing his steps to avoid as much as possible creaky floorboards. (Would he have gotten in trouble for being up right now? No, probably not, it wasn’t even that late, but old habits die hard.) He found the door to the back porch and unlatched it, stepping outside into the cool Oklahoma air. A breeze blew past, through his hair and jacket. He breathed deeply, exhaustion sweeping his body. There was an old rocking chair set out on the porch, which he sank into with a sigh. It was chilly out, the weather just beginning to turn for the autumn season, but he found it far more refreshing than being inside a stiff, stale room. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then opened them as he exhaled, watching the moon rising above the yard and the fields that bordered it. For the first time in those few days (had it only been so short? It already felt like an eternity), he felt peaceful and calm. 

It wasn’t to last, however. There would be little sleeping tonight.

* * *

That afternoon, when Laurey got home, she had a good, serious discussion with her aunt. What counts as pressing matters to a twelve year old are often overlooked by grownups, but Eller knew her niece and knew when something meant business. (Anyway, she was right this time; the girl had good reason to be concerned.) 

So they reached a conclusion: it was time for a sleepover.

Despite the short notice, everyone invited was in attendance. Aunt Eller phoned Curly’s folks and Ado Annie’s paw soon as the plan was settled to invite the kids over. Playdates and the like were such a regular occurrence in the Williams farmhouse that no one was bothered if Curly spent the night with his friends (in fact, as a small household with three sons, it was rather quite the opposite) on such short notice. And Andrew Carnes practically volunteered his daughter the moment Eller’s phone call came through; they always seemed to have the same ideas when it came to this sort of thing, and they both knew Annie would be a necessary addition to the get-together. She’d enjoy it, too. By sundown two cars drove up the lane and deposited their children for the night with sleeping bags, then turned and drove back from whence they came.

Dressed in their pajamas, the children discussed the evening ahead of them over mugs of hot chocolate. There would be little sleeping tonight.

* * *

When the moon went up, the club rolled out. Laurey carried a metal water bottle in a pouch slung from her shoulder. Curly had his cowboy hat. Ado Annie had a flashlight, which she balanced on her lap. All three had their phones in their pockets, just in case of emergencies.

Aunt Eller never let them go on a mission without them, especially an unsupervised one. Tonight she stayed home to keep an eye on the farmhouse, but she kept the phone and the gun close at hand, if there was any sign of trouble. By now she trusted the kids to handle themselves well enough without her there to protect them -- they needed to learn how to cover for themselves, and each other, anyhow -- but you could never fully predict how a mission would go before you embark. 

Rumors warn you should never go out into the fields at night, lest you come across a ravenous spirit, which is precisely the reason why they were going tonight in the first place. 

Once they reached the edge of the yard, Curly took the flashlight from Annie’s lap and switched it on. The light of the full moon made the landscape bright enough to see without needing it, but a little visual insurance couldn’t hurt. They didn’t even fully know what they were looking for, anyway.

“What  _ are _ we lookin’ fer, anyway?” Curly asked, sweeping the beam of light across the grass.

“A spirit,” Laurey deadpanned. Curly scowled and shined the light at her. She squinted and made a face, turning away and reaching out her hand to push it away. “Don’ shine that in my face!”

“I know  _ that _ ,” he said. “You know what I  _ meant _ .”

“Well,  _ I  _ ain’t seen it ‘fore. Aunt Eller said t’ look fer somethin’ big an’ mean…Annie, what’s yer paw said?” 

Annie grunted in concentration; her chair was all-terrain but it was still tougher to roll through grass and dirt than hard flooring. “Paw says t’ look out fer somethin’ like a coyot’,” she explained. “Jist hope we don’ run into a  _ real _ one.”

  
  
“You’d rather an angry, rabid spirit that can shoot lasers or somethin’ crazy like that?” Laurey asked.

  
  
“You betcha!” Annie whooped, grinning. “‘s a more fun fight that way!” She popped a wheelie in her eagerness. Curly laughed. 

“Alright, sit in yer saddle there,” Laurey said, rolling her eyes. “We ain’t even know if we’re gonna  _ find _ the thing t’night.”

“Yeah, I know…” she conceded. “But anyway, I  _ know _ how t’ fight a spirit. ‘s harder t’ do th’ same fer a regular ol’ dog if’n you ain’t got a weapon.” The others considered this, and decided she made a very good point. They hoped they wouldn’t have to encounter a real coyote tonight too.

* * *

They wandered through fields and grass for the better part of an hour and a half, alternatingly chattering about whatever came to mind and hushing up to listen for their quarry. At a few points they thought they heard something sneaking around, a distant howling, but it was hard to confirm and harder to follow where it came from, if it had actually come at all. 

Curly swung the flashlight more lazily now, and walked with a frown and a tired gait. He exhaled loudly. “What time is it?”   
  


Laurey checked her phone. “‘s just past midnight.”

Curly groaned. “ _ Shyoot, _ I got gym class t’morrah too,” he complained. “Why’d we hafta do this  _ tonight _ anyway? Couldn’t’a waited til it wasn’t a school night?”

  
  
Annie leaned over and lightly punched him in the arm. “Quit bein’ a baby,” she said, snorting, although if pressed she would’ve had to admit her arms were getting tired too. 

“Cut it out,” Laurey warned, her own exhaustion stretching her patience thin as much as their antics. She looked up at the sky, where the moon was just past its meridian. “‘s a good night fer searchin’. Moon’s bright.”

“Thought ain’t no one caught sight a’ this spirit since las’ weeken’. We don’ even know if it’s  _ out _ here,” Curly argued. “Could be wastin’ our time.”

“Th’ sooner we look, th’ better our chances are a’ findin’ the thing,” she retorted, turning her head to shoot him a look. 

  
  
“I jis’ don’--” Curly started again, but Annie cut him off with a forceful shush.

“What? What is it--” Laurey asked, suddenly alert. Annie shushed her too. Sitting up a little taller and leaning forward in her chair, she looked into the distance with narrow eyes. 

  
  
“Shut that light off, will ya?” she said, waving a hand at Curly, only taking her eyes off of whatever she had spotted for a split second. Curly obeyed, fumbling with the flashlight until it clicked off. The three of them were still and silent for a moment, then Ado Annie stuck out her hand and pointed to something maybe a hundred yards away. “ _ There _ , see ‘im?” 

Curly and Laurey stared into the distance where Annie was pointing. It was hard to spot but there  _ was _ something there, definitely; they could see it moving, scraping around and rustling all the grass with it. Above it swirled a cloud of shimmery silver mist which seemed to glow, like a cloud lit up by dry lightning. Spotting it, Curly and Laurey immediately crouched down out of sight, drawing in a breath. 

“Is that it?” Curly asked, his voice dropping all the way down to a whisper. Annie nodded, not taking her eyes off of it, whatever  _ it _ was. She bit her lip and an eager, determined smile spread across her face. Her fingers tightened on the wheels of her chair.

“Nobody move yet,” Laurey whispered back, glancing around first then making eye contact with Curly. “We’ll make a plan, figure out the best way t’ ambush it ‘fore it notices--”

Before she could finish, an overexcited Ado Annie lifted a hand to her mouth and let out a sharp, loud whistle and a whoop. Though it was too far away to discernibly make out any features, they could see the creature take notice of them and start making its way towards them, and fast. Curly and Laurey’s eyes widened in panic. 

“ _ Annie!!” _ they both whisper-shouted at her. She laughed.   
  


“Hope you two’re ready for a  _ fight! _ ” she whooped again, a determined look on her face and hands held in steady, ready fists. Curly and Laurey stood back up and got a glimpse of the beast rapidly approaching. They caught each other’s eyes for a second, steeling themselves, and nodded. They knew what they had to do.

The monster leapt out from the grass in front of them with claws and teeth bared, growling and snarling like mad. Laurey and Curly sidestepped to avoid it just in time. It headed directly towards Annie, where it collided with her fist hard enough to send it tumbling back into the grass with a yelp. Annie rolled back slightly from the blow and shook her hand out, letting out a defiant, punctuated laugh. “Oh, yer  _ on!! _ ”

In the half-moment it was on the ground, they got their first real look at it. It was their size or a little larger, with large hands (feet? paws?) and long claws. It was hairy but unnaturally so; in fact, its coat of fur almost seemed to ooze more than it did ripple or flow like hair ought to. It had a wild, canid head, complete with long muzzle and glinting teeth (also dripping, with saliva the same silvery color as the vapor radiating off the beast), but if it had eyes, they were so dark and obscured and soulless they couldn’t find them. They also noticed as it picked itself back up again, it stood only on its hind legs, standing up tall like a person would. 

“A  _ werewolf? _ ” Curly cried in disbelief, stepping back again.

“Were- _ coyote _ , more like,” corrected Laurey, sounding just as disbelieving. She grabbed her bottle sling and, pulling it off, held it by the strap like a handleless flail. “ _ Definitely _ our spirit, though,” she said, watching it regain its footing. It turned around and roared at the three of them, making an unholy sound that was one part beastly howl and one part agonizingly human. It lunged forward again; Ado Annie rolled herself swiftly out of its path, while Laurey swung her bottle and whacked it into the monster from the side, colliding with its shoulder. It roared in pain and anger.

The three kids all backed up from it, minds racing. “What’s the plan?” Curly called out, holding a hand out pointed like a gun at the beast. “Knock out ‘r take out?” He had to duck and dodge as the creature took a swipe at him, only missing his arm by the slightest margin. 

“It’s  _ aggressive _ , ‘ll give ‘im that much,” said Annie. “Knock out ‘r take out, I say whichever comes first!”

The beast set its target on Curly by then and kept making lunges for him, swiping with its claws and snapping with its jaws. The boy was quick and nimble, but it wasn’t enough. The spirit took a well-timed leap and slammed into Curly, digging its teeth into his right shoulder. He cried out as a wave of pain and numbness shot through him. The impact sent them both tumbling backwards, and he used that leverage to kick the beast off of him and scramble back to his feet. 

“ _ Curly!! _ ” the girls shouted, shocked and worried. He stood up and steadied himself, adrenaline blocking out the pain. He moved to raise his hand and block the creature from another attack but found, disturbingly, his entire right arm was immovable and numb. Caught off-guard, the beast lunged at him again, this time getting his left arm with its claws. Curly fell backwards again, landing on his back with a grunt. His hat fell off and landed a few feet away.

The beast turned to go in for one last attack but another good whack from Laurey’s bottle sent it yelping off course again. It staggered back to its feet, clearly getting weary but still with a murderous drive. It roared again and lunged for Laurey, now dancing the same deadly tango Curly had just faced. Laurey kited the monster backwards, away from her friend on the ground; Annie wheeled closer, keeping a watchful eye on the fight. 

“Get  _ up _ , cowboy,” she urged. “‘s wrong wit’chu?”

Curly huffed, feeling dizzy. “I  _ cain’t _ ._”_

“Whatd’ya mean,  _ cain’t _ _??” _

  
  
“I cain’t--” he huffed again, straining. “I cain’t move my arms.” Ado Annie looked at him, then back at the beast, eyes widening in realization.

“Laurey! Don’t let ‘im--” she started to call out, just in time for the beast to swipe Laurey’s arm with its claws. She grunted in pain, jerking back from it, and was also caught off-guard when she found she could no longer feel or move the limb. Annie huffed and puffed out her cheeks, frowning with determination. It was big and fast, they weren’t big enough or fast enough to compete. And it could disable a limb in one strike. But it panted, it scraped up the dirt and scrambled through the grass and had to  _ drag _ itself up after a blow -- it was tired. It was weak. Annie knew what to do.

Rolling herself away from Curly again, she shouted an aggressive _“_ _ Hey!! _ _”_ to draw the monster’s attention. “C’mere, you big ugly  _ mutt! _ _”_ She bent down and pulled off her shoe, throwing it at the spirit. It bounced harmlessly off the creature’s back, but it was enough to get it to target her instead of her friends. It turned and roared, heaving big panting breaths, then launched into a running leap at her again. Annie let out her own cry, a much louder and fiercer shout than would would’ve expected from such a small girl in a wheelchair. She let it come to her -- she could see from here how to take it down.

This time, as the beast pounced, she made no move to avoid it. As she had predicted, it was worn out, and miscalculating; it caught her legs rather than her torso. She winced at the pain of claws sinking in, but gritted her teeth and grinned anyway; she had it right where she wanted. In a fluid motion, she leaned back into a wheelie and, with a grunt of effort and a blast of bright pink, knocked the spirit back and launched it across the field several yards. It landed, hard, with a pitiful yelp, and made no move to get back up. 

Ado Annie caught her breath. “ _ HAH! _ _”_ she cried, triumphant. _“_ _ _T_HAT’S  _ how it’s done!” She grinned wildly, heaving as the adrenaline still pumped through her system. Laurey held her now-lame arm to her side and looked between the girl and the beast. Curly craned his neck to do the same from his place on the ground. Annie rolled over to him and grabbed one of his arms, yanking him up to his feet. He whined an “ow.”

“What even  _ was _ that?” Curly coughed out. “Dunno if I ever saw a spirit like  _ that  _ ’fore.” He looked sadly down at his two limp arms. “An’ what’d’it do t’  _ me? _ _”_ he asked, more frantic now.

“Must’ve been a grudge…” Laurey thought aloud. “With some kinda…paralysis powers.” Annie giggled and wiggled her chair around, showing off. Curly frowned. 

“‘s prob’ly temporary,” Laurey added to make him feel better, but muttered an “I hope” afterwards under her breath, looking at her own arm, which felt fuzzy in its numbness.    
  


“Ain’t ‘e swiped you too?” Curly asked, looking at the distinct claw marks in Ado Annie’s pajama pants.

“‘m  _ already  _ paralyzed. ‘e cain’t do  _ nothin’ _ t’ me!” She laughed again, big and bright. Curly breathed out, exhausted and weary, but managed a small smile anyway.

Laurey looked back at the spirit knocked out on the ground. “Uh, guys?” Curly and Annie looked over. It lay in a heap and its form seemed to shrink away, rapidly sublimating into that same silvery mist as before like dry ice. The three cautiously approached. As the silver smoke faded and subsided, it revealed not the body of a defeated, rabid canine, but a boy. 

The three ghost hunters exchanged looks. 

“...Is ‘e okay?”

“‘e’s breathin’...I think.”

“...what d’ we do with ‘im?”

“Cain’t jus’ leave ‘im, can we?”

“Y’think Aunt Eller’ll wanna see ‘im?”

“I don’...I don’ know.” 

The three of them stayed there, watching the boy in silence, for a moment which felt like forever. Finally, Ado Annie rolled forward and leaned down, grabbing the boy’s arm and pulling him up. Curly made a face. 

“What’d’y’ even  _ think _ yer doin’?” 

“Cain’t jist leave ‘im ‘ere,” she said. “C’mon. Let’s carry ‘im back t’ th’ farmhouse.”

Laurey and Curly shared a look. They didn’t know if they should. But they also didn’t have any better ideas. They shrugged (as best they could, given their injuries), collected their things, and began to trudge back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combat is hard to write y'all :( especially when theres ghost shit going on. I recommend checking out the fight scenes in Paranatural, the webcomic that inspired this work, for a clearer understanding of what kinda stuff goes down.


	5. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the answers to the questions you ask aren't at all what you want to hear. Explanations can be nice; that is, except when they're not. Now Jud is left wondering whether ignorance or knowledge is really the better option now.

Jud groaned as he came to, groggy and aching. For a second, he figured he must’ve fallen asleep in the rocker on the porch, but as consciousness crept back in, so too did the realization that he was  _ not _ at home anymore. He hurt all over, especially his head and shoulders and back. He glanced around in the darkness, realizing that this chair and this porch were not his own. He moved to stand but found he couldn’t; looking down, he noticed with alarm that he was tied tightly to the chair, wrapped up with thin but very strong, slightly sticky thread of some kind. His arms were pinned to his sides, his feet bound together, and his torso cinched to the back of the chair. He strained against it but it didn’t make a lick of difference. Whatever,  _ whoever _ did this to him, they clearly didn’t want him going anywhere for a good while.

He began to panic.

There was the sound of commotion nearby, of hushed voices and approaching feet. “Shoot, he’s wakin’ up,” he heard someone say. Jud picked his head up to look around, to find out who was there, but squeezed his eyes shut and winced as a bright flashlight shone directly in his face. He made a noise and turned his head away as much as possible.

“Well, howdy there, Jud.” someone said. Jud thought he recognized the voice.

“Start talkin’,” said another. Jud tried getting a look at who was there but couldn’t make any faces out, squinting through the light.

“Will you  _ turn that off? _ ” he hissed. “Gonna go  _ blind _ in a minute!”

The light held for a second, then flicked off with reluctance. Jud blinked, eyes watering a little as they adjusted to the sudden darkness. In the fading moonlight he began to make out their faces: Curly, Annie, and Laurey, gathered around him and looking at him intently, like he was a bug about to be squashed under the heel of their boot. 

“...What’s goin’ on?” he asked in a low voice after a moment, slowly, glancing between them. “What am I doin’ here?” He looked back down at his restraints, then grew more worked up. “Why am I tied up? Did  _ you _ do this t’ me?” he asked, harshly, jerking his chin at the three and gritting his teeth.

“Hey,  _ shush _ ,” Curly said, waving the flashlight at him. “ _ We’s  _ askin’ the questions here.” Jud looked confused. 

“You ain’t  _ asked _ me anythin’ yet,” Jud pointed out, seething. Curly’s lips flattened and he glanced sideways at Laurey, who scoffed. 

“What were you doin’ out in the fields at night?” she started the interrogation.

Jud looked confused. “...I wasn’t. I ain’t  _ that  _ stupid.”

“Then how come we found you out there lyin’ in the dirt like you was a beat up ol’ tire?” Annie cut in. Jud didn’t answer; he hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.

“How come you  _ ‘ttacked  _ us?” Curly asked next, biting. 

“I don’t know what’chur talkin’ bout,” Jud said, hunching and glaring at him.

“Y’sure do, I bet. What were y’  _ doin’ _ out there ‘n th’ middle a’ th’ night, huh? Huntin’? Lookin’ fer  _ trouble _ ?” 

“Curly…” Laurey warned.

“I ain’t lookin’ fer trouble, but  _ you  _ sure did find  _ me _ ,” Jud cut back. Both boys were getting more and more worked up, but while Curly’s voice climbed, Jud’s fell lower.

Curly clenched his jaw, mad. “How come you ain’t  _ tell _ us ‘bout’chur spirit, huh? Could’a hurt you t’ at least’a  _ warned  _ us ‘fore you tried t’  _ kill us? _ ” he practically shouted.

“ _ Curly! _ ” Laurey jabbed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back from getting in Jud’s face. “Cool it a little, will ya?”

“I didn’ do  _ nothin’!! _ ” Jud cried, angry and loud. He bit his lip and kept his head down, trying to reel in his temper. He hated exploding like that, but he also hated getting accused of things he hadn’t done, being treated like dirt. “...I don’ know what’chur talkin’ ‘bout. I was out on...m’ own porch, an’ I fell asleep, and ‘s all I r’member. An’ now ‘m here. I swear.” His voice was quiet and low again, but still charged. He met Curly’s eyes and glared. “So don’ go makin’ me out t’ be a  _ liar _ , makin’ up  _ stories _ ‘bout me what ain’t  _ true _ . An’ I don’ know what the  _ hell _ yer problem is with me,  _ cowboy _ .” Ado Annie made a face like she didn’t know if he was allowed to say that, and thrilled.

Curly made an angry pout and tugged on the collar of his shirt, pulling it back enough to reveal the set of teeth marks on his shoulder from the fight. “ _ That’s  _ my  _ problem _ ‘ith you,” he jabbed. Jud’s expression dropped a bit in mild horror. He recognized those marks, they were the same ones in his back from his nightmare before. 

Laurey glanced between the two boys, then at Ado Annie. Annie looked at Jud, studying his face, concentrating. She said something, quiet, to herself. Then, after a moment, she looked up in realization. “He don’t know.” 

Curly was distracted. “Huh?”

Annie leaned over and grabbed his arm, tugging on it. “Curly, I don’ think he  _ knows _ yet.” Curly looked her in the eye, then looked back at Jud, expression softening with confusion as he considered this.

Jud was lost, and upset about that. “...don’t know  _ what _ ?”

The three kids backed up a step from the interrogation after exchanging glances. 

“...what?” Jud repeated, sounding small and a bit frightened.

They looked at him quietly. As if on cue, each began to glow, exuding an unnaturally colored vapor: Laurey, light blue; Curly, dark blue; Annie, a rather fitting bright pink. Jud looked alarmed. Annie made a face and motioned to him with her chin. Looking back at himself, Jud noticed that he, too, was glowing, emanating a silvery mist of his own.

“...what the hell is this?”

Laurey held out a glowing hand. “Spectral energy,” she explained. “Ev’rybody’s got it, but only people like us c’n see it, ‘r manipulate it.” 

Jud watched, looking frightened, feeling small. “...people like us?”

Ado Annie nodded. “Spectrals.”

“...yer crazy,” Jud said, sinking. “ _ I’m _ crazy. This is jist another nightmare, isn’t it?”

“It’s real,” Curly chimed in, frowning. “Ain’t too many folks like us, but yer one of ‘em.”

“ _ Why? _ ” he asked, suddenly frustrated again. “I don’ wanna  _ glow  _ ‘r be  _ spectral _ or anythin’ like that. I jis’ wanna be--” 

“Normal?” Laurey asked, interrupting. “...don’t have much of a choice. Don’ know  _ why _ yer a spectral, but, y’are...no way t’ go back.”

“‘s pretty cool tho,” Ado Annie started. “‘cuz we c’n see an’ do things most folks cain’t, like ghosts an’ spirits.” Jud looked at her, helpless. “All those ol’ stories y’hear ‘bout ‘em are true! ‘cept most of ‘em ain’t the mean type. But when there  _ is _ a mean one, ‘s where we come in.  _ We _ ,” she tilted her head sideways, gesturing to Curly and Laurey. Curly was still eyeing Jud, particularly when Annie mentioned ‘mean spirits’. “We’s got a  _ club _ , an’ we go out n’ bust ‘em ourselves if’n they’s makin’ too much trouble.”

Jud noticed Curly staring at him and bristled. “...yeah, well, I ain’t a part a’ yer  _ club _ . An’ I ain’t no  _ ghost _ ‘r  _ spirit _ , so y’ might as well leave me ‘lone so’s I c’n  _ forget _ ‘bout all a’ this soon ‘s I c’n.”

“Maybe you  _ are, _ ” Curly said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are  _ what? _ ” Jud glared.

“How’s we s’pos’t’ know if’n you’s really what’chu say you ‘re, huh?” He pointed a finger at Jud, from which swirling blue spectral energy glowed menacingly. “Out in them fields, you was lookin’ an’ actin’  _ mighty _ fearsome...unnatural-like.”

Laurey scowled and pushed his hand down. “Ease off ‘im, Curly,” she warned. “We don’ know what happened t’night but pointin’  _ finger guns _ ain’t gonna solve anythin’.” She shot him a look. “...but y’ c’n be part a’ the club still.” 

“Prob’ly should,” Annie added. “‘s a lot t’ learn an’ ain’t nobody else gon’ teach you better’n us.” She grinned, biting her lip, eager at the idea of a new member/punching bag for the club.

“‘s dangerous, too,” Curly added, folding his arms and looking what Jud thought was supposed to be mysterious. “Don’t wanna be caught ‘lone ‘thout help ‘r knowin’ what t’ do if’n you get caught up in somethin’ bad.”

The three of them regarded Jud, waiting for some kind of response. He looked at the three of them, first Annie, then Curly, and finally Laurey. 

“...’ll think ‘bout it,” he finally muttered, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. The three exchanged glances and shrugged. It was a start.

“C’mon. Let’s go inside an’ tell Aunt Eller what happened,” Curly said after a moment, brushing past Jud and heading for the door. 

“Wait, did we not tell ‘er anythin’ yet?” Ado Annie asked, turning up and following him. “Thought one a’ you said  _ somethin’  _ when we got back.”

“Naw, not yet,” Curly said, opening the back door. 

Jud craned his neck to watch them go and flattened his lips, frowning. He couldn’t go anywhere, as he was still thoroughly tied to the chair. Turning back he caught Laurey’s eye and she stepped forward, crouching next to him. She held up her hand and formed a sharp blade of spectral energy and used it to cut through the bindings. Then she stood back up with a yawn and headed inside with the others.

Jud stood and rubbed his wrists. He watched them go, then turned back and looked out at the yard in the darkness. His body felt heavy with exhaustion and pain, his mind felt dizzy from…well,  _ everything.  _ Nothing about this situation felt  _ right _ . It seemed like he should run away, do something else, find some way to reverse all of this, wake up from this never-ending nightmare.

But he didn’t have any better ideas at the moment. With a tired sigh, he followed the other kids inside the farmhouse.

* * *

Aunt Eller was sitting at the dining table, hunched over, asleep with her cheek propped up on her hand. Nearby sat a half-drunk cup of now-cold tea, an open book, a cell phone, and an elaborately decorated pistol. She snored very quietly, and her position gave the overall impression that she had been staying up waiting for the kids and drifted off despite herself. The four kids came in through the kitchen. Laurey wove around the others to the front, placing a hand on her aunt’s shoulder and pushed her lightly. “Aunt Eller, wake up. We’re back.”

With a twitch and an inhale, Eller sat up and blinked awake. “‘m awake,” she mumbled, taking a deep breath and yawning. She sat up properly and turned her head to look at her niece, with a kind smile. “‘m awake.” She glanced at the cell phone on the table and checked the time. “Lands, you kids sure took yer time, didn’t’chu? How’d it go?” she asked, looking back at the kids, taking visual stock of them each. Her eyes settled on Jud last; her eyebrows raised. “Welcome back, Mr. Fry,” she greeted. He noticed a yellow glow about her -- more spectral energy?

The three other kids exchanged glances. “Well, we foun’ th’ spirit,” Ado Annie started. Eller made a noise of interest and grabbed her teacup. She look displeased, finding it completely cold, but took a sip anyway. 

“Put up quite a fight, I reckon?” The club members flattened their lips and glanced at each other again. Eller noticed, frowning. “Lemme see y’. No one got hurt too bad?” she said, gesturing them forward. Jud watched, quietly, from the kitchen door. First inspected was her niece, who had a rather long but not too deep set of scratches in her arm. Annie was next, and had only a few claw marks in her legs, and was grinningly proud over that. Curly was the worst off, and he seemed sullen and reluctant to show the older woman the various scratches, claw marks, and bites along his shoulders and upper arms. She asked him if he was hurting too bad, and he shook his head. She offered a smile, pushing his hat back and scruffing up his hair. He couldn’t help but grin. 

Aunt Eller pushed her chair back and stood, turning to the kitchen. “I’ll grab th’ first aid kit.” She paused, looking at Jud, who seemed like he wanted to melt into the darkness. “How ‘bout you? You hurt ‘t all?” Jud shook his head, but Aunt Eller read him like a book. “C’mon now, ain’t no shame in gettin’ scraped up.”

Ado Annie frowned. “Aunt Eller, Jud ain’t--”

“Hush,” Eller interrupted. “‘s alright.” 

Jud looked deeply conflicted and shy for a moment. After a silent moment, he shrugged off his jacket and turned around, pulling off his shirt to reveal the same kind of bites and scratches as Curly on his back, but a day older and untreated. The other kids glanced among themselves again. Eller nodded and moved into the kitchen, opening cabinets. “We’ll get’chu patched up ‘s well.” Jud avoided eye contact and frowned deeply. “Curly, Laurey, you two go wash up in th’ bathroom,” she instructed, pulling down a first aid kit and some towels. Curly and Laurey walked off; Eller beckoned Jud over to the table and wet a towel in the sink. He sat down backwards in a chair as Eller brought the towel and the kit over.

“Hol’ still, might hurt a little.” Gently she pressed the towel to his wounds to clean away dried blood and dirt and such. Jud winced occasionally but otherwise sat still as he was told. “Now, one a’ you kids wanna tell me what happened out there t’night?” 

Ado Annie pulled out one of the dining chairs and lifted herself into it. She leaned her elbows on the table and perched her chin on her arms. “Well we was out huntin’ fer a while…’n then I sawed ‘im in th’ distance, ‘e looked like a big ol’ werewolf, only ‘stead a’ bein’ a wolf ‘e was more like a coyote,” she explained, occasionally gesturing with her hands or head for emphasis. “An’ then ‘e took notice ‘a us an’ came right over. ‘e was a real ‘ggressive type, big an’ strong an’ fast too.” Jud listened silently as Eller moved on to disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. “An’ ‘e put up a real fight, too...got some kinda paralyzin’ touch to ‘im, ‘cause soon’s ‘e got Laurey or Curly they ain’t been able t’ feel their arms fer almos’ a half-hour ‘r more.”

Eller snorted. “Bet’chu got a leg up on ‘im there, huh?” she said, looking over at Annie with a grin. Annie laughed back.

“Sure bet!  _ An’ _ I was th’ one who took ‘im out in th’ end!”

“‘m sure you were,” Eller added, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I coul’ see ‘e was gettin’ wore out from all th’ fightin’ an’ bein’ hit ‘round, so when ‘e jumped on me I gave ‘im a big ol’ punch with my spectr’l energy an’ knocked ‘im cross th’ field.” She demonstrated with her hands on the table in a way that did not paint a clearer picture in the slightest. 

Laurey and Curly came out of the bathroom, having rinsed out their own injuries. They came over to the table just as Eller finished up with Jud; he got up and replaced his shirt as Curly took his seat. “Laurey, be a lamb an’ patch yerself an’ Annie up fer me,” Eller instructed, passing over some bandaids, a wet cloth, and a tube a disinfecting ointment. Annie’s injuries were the least severe of all of them, and Laurey could use the practice in dressing minor wounds. Annie turned herself around and stuck her legs out, rolling up her pants to expose the cuts.

“So? What next?” Eller prompted Annie to continue her retelling, now applying disinfectant to Curly’s bites. 

“Well, ‘e was down n’ out fer the count, looked like, but ‘e didn’t turn ghost like I ‘xpected.” Eller looked over, intrigued. “‘e gave off a lotta spectr’l energy, like a big ol’ cloud, an’ when we came over t’ look an’ see closer, ‘e wasn’ there no more.” Annie looked up and locked eyes with Jud, who had been listening just as closely as Eller. “Foun’ Jud lyin’ there ‘nstead.” Jud felt all eyes on him again and his cheeks burned. “Anyway, we brought ‘im back t’ th’ farmhouse an’ talked fer a li’l while, an’ then we came in.” Laurey, having finished sticking bandaids (slightly haphazardly) onto Annie’s legs, shared a glance with Curly as she began to (slightly haphazardly) stick bandaids onto her own cuts. Eller looked to Jud.

“Well, I s’pose then I oughta ask  _ you _ what happened, too,” she said, but it didn’t sound pointed or accusing. Usually when folks asked him that he knew he was already in trouble, but something about Eller’s expression told him to just be honest.

“...I don’ know” was all he could say, and that was honest.

“...don’ know?” Eller repeated. Jud nodded.

“...I was sittin’ outside, at...home, ‘n I must’ve fallen ‘sleep, an’ I don’t ‘member anythin’ else ‘cept wakin’ up here.” Curly made a face like he still didn’t quite believe Jud, but Eller did. 

  
  


Sticking the last bandage onto Curly, she stood up and wiped her hands on a clean towel. “I think I got an idear of what’s happened t’night.” All four kids looked up, listening alert despite everybody’s exhaustion. She walked around Curly’s chair over to Jud and placed a hand on his arm reassuringly. “Bet this is all pretty new t’ you, huh? Overwhelmin’?” Jud swallowed and nodded. Eller sighed and patted his arm. “‘m sorry it had t’ be this way, dear. ‘s pure bad luck, ‘m sure.” 

She walked back around the edge of the table, away from the kids a bit where there was more room. “Now, I don’ know how much these kids’ve told you yet, but I figure yer owed a proper expl’nation by now.” Holding out her arm in much the same way Laurey did earlier, Eller conjured bright wisps of yellow vapor from her hand. “What’chu are now’s a spectral. That means you c’n see, hear, an’ feel ghosts an’ spirits. Ghosts’re dead souls, n’ they don’t tend t’ stick aroun’ much, less’n they got unfinished business, ‘r are stubborner’n a mule. Spirits on th’ other hand ain’t ever been  _ ‘live _ like ghosts once was, but they’s supernatural all th’ same. Now, most of ‘em are harmless types what won’t bother you in a minute, but they’s some that like t’ cause trouble.”

“‘s where we come in,” Ado Annie interjected.

Jud looked weary. “I h’rd this ‘fore, outside,” he said lowly. “Still don’t see what ‘t’s got t’ do with me.”

Aunt Eller dropped her arm, tone still instructional. “See, if’n a spirit gets kill’t, ‘t can turn into a ghost for a short while. They’ll pass on fer good in short order, unless they find somethin’ t’ possess.” Jud looked up, brows furrowing. “One option’s t’ p’sess a regular ol’ object. They stay stuck up in there ‘til a spectral with th’ same color energy comes along an’ picks ‘em up. That way, the spirit c’n heal itself on th’ spectral’s energy, an’ th’ spectral c’n use the spirit’s powers as their own, so long ‘s they got the tool on ‘em.

“Option two’s a bit rarer. If’n a spirit gets kill’t but they’s a  _ person _ nearby, ‘t can possess ‘em directly. Spirit lives inside a’ them an they c’n use its powers same as a tool, but there ain’t no separatin’ em less’n th’ spirit come out itself.” Eller sighed, her voice softening more sympathetic now. “I s’spect that’s you.” The other three kids turned and looked back at him. He looked nauseated. “Got th’ feelin’ yer medium t’ that coyot’ spirit now. Worse’n that, I s’spect it might be a grudge.”

“A grudge?” Jud repeated softly. Eller nodded.

“If’n a spirit gets ‘specially bothered ‘e can turn rabid an’ angry. Gets aggressive, cain’t be reasoned with. They c’n calm down t’ normal over time, but...ain’t no tellin’.” 

“Grudges is dangerous,” Ado Annie said. “Most a’ th’ time my paw’ll put ‘em down hisself if he gets wind a’ one in th’ territory.”

Jud sank into a chair, looking defeated. Well, at least that explained the nightmares. “...what do I do?” he finally asked, eyes trained on the table. 

“Fer now, you get some sleep,” said Aunt Eller. Her tone suggested it wasn’t up for debate. “All a’ you. Got school in th’ mornin’.” The other kids groaned at the reminder. Eller pointed with her thumb to the living room, where Ado Annie’s and Curly’s sleeping bags were deposited on the floor beside the couch, and they all got up and moved to get ready for bed. Jud stayed seated, looking up at Eller from under his eyebrows, sullen and exhausted. He was more tired than he could ever recall being before now, he ached all over, he was going to be in so much trouble when his new foster folks found out he snuck out in the morning, and now he knew none of this was going to let up any time soon. “Figure out what comes next ‘n th’ morn’. But y’all need yer rest. You c’n take the couch fer t’night. I’ll grab you some blankets.”

Aunt Eller collected the used towels and first aid kit and disappeared back into the kitchen. Curly and Annie unrolled their sleeping bags on the floor; Laurey came downstairs carrying one of her own. Jud stood up, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands, and carefully made his way over to the couch. His mind was reluctant but his body was too exhausted to think twice about the opportunity to crash, to rest for as long as it could. He climbed up onto the couch and laid his head on a throw pillow. Aunt Eller emerged again from the kitchen and covered him with a knit blanket. She made sure each kid was settled in before saying goodnight, flicking off the light switch, and retiring for the evening herself. It didn’t matter to Jud, though, who was out as soon as his eyes were closed.

For the first time that week, he slept well: deeply, peacefully, and uninterrupted by nightmares or beasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta worldbuilding/exposition in this one! Check out the webcomic Paranatural if you're confused on how the spirit stuff works.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


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